


The Distant Dream

by LaceKyoko1138



Series: Lonesome Blackbird, Cheery Sparrow [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Gen, i love world history and i am particularly fond of the history of geisha so i had to keep writing, more 1940s au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceKyoko1138/pseuds/LaceKyoko1138
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were two sides of the same coin, two birds trapped in separate cages, longing to be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Distant Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to turn this into a series. I really love writing a 1940s, pre Japan's entrance to WW2, geisha culture AU. I hope you enjoy!

Ke’ri found that she too had grown fond of Lon’qu, if only after one encounter. His gentle gaze, the look of utter sadness in his eyes at her song, his broad shoulders and thick hair. She didn’t see him stand up, but she knew he must have been tall, very tall.

She was getting her makeup on, the thick white paste on her face, charcoaled brows, red lips. Her hair had recently been put into a new style but the white hair adornment indicating her apprenticeship was still in the back. She saw herself in the looking glass and felt a deep wave of melancholy hit her.

As a geisha, she had little freedom. She could not go out with friends. She could not flirt with men. She could not even choose what she wanted to eat most days. Relationships were out of the question, and she would never marry. More than likely she would be adopted by an okiya, hopefully the one she was already a part of, and would inherit it. She would live the life of a geisha for the rest of her years.

She knew war was coming, but she didn’t pay it much mind. So many others were convinced that the country wouldn’t enter it. Why should they?

She finished her makeup routine and found Say’ri had arrived. She was coming over to explain some things to Ke’ri.

She entered and bowed politely to Ke’ri. “I see you’ve finished your makeup.”

“Yes, Sister,” which was what apprentices addressed their superiors as. Say’ri was Ke’ri’s sister, if only by name. Ke’ri imagined that they were real sisters often. Say’ri was always so kind.

“I believe it’s time I explained something to you. Come, follow me. We will make our rounds.” Say’ri sometimes had Ke’ri follow her around the town, smiling at strangers. It was a way to promote a geisha’s popularity. Ke’ri’s shy smile and glance took a lot of strangers by surprise. They found her very sweet.

“Ke’ri, tell me what you know about men and women.” They passed by a sweets shop, and Ke’ri hungered for the confections within, but she stayed focused on Say’ri’s request.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” answered Ke’ri. She knew that men had different bodies than women; men were hard and tough, like leather, but women were soft and elegant, like silk, but she felt like Say’ri wasn’t asking for that.

“I mean, what do you know what goes on between a man and a woman?”

Ke’ri pondered this for a moment. She once caught a couple in the alleyway when she was younger naked below the waist and clinging to each other. It was an odd thing to see when she was so young, but now that she was older, she knew what had been going on.

“I… I think I know what you’re asking. Men and women…do things together…” Ke’ri mumbled, embarrassed.

“Yes, but it is important when a woman does this thing for the first time. Men are…possessive of it, prefer it even, and as geisha… Well, I suppose you can say we sell it.”

Ke’ri blushed. “Am I to be a prostitute?”

Say’ri shook her head vigorously, hair ornaments jingling. “Never. This is something different, almost like your passage into womanhood.”

“I thought that occurred when I had my monthly cycles.”

“Ke’ri, that is only a part of the battle. Being a woman…is like being at war. There is so much we must go through, so much pain, and it is only made harder by the men who don’t understand that kind of pain, but that’s a story for another day.” Say’ri was being distracted. “No, what is about to happen for you is something we call mizuage. Patrons of yours from the teahouses we visit will be made aware of this time when you present them a gift, an ekubo. It’s a sweet that looks like the dimples it’s named for. Ideally, each one of them will present a sum of money to your okiya, and the one offering the most will have your mizuage. It’s not so much an auction as it is a negotiation, but, sometimes, bidding wars occur. They’re not common though.”

Ke’ri thought about what Say’ri was telling her. She would present gifts to men, letting them know she was ready, like a ripened fruit. It made her sad to be told that was only what men thought of her, a fruit to be eaten, an untouched fruit at that, but she would learn that the world was often cruel to young girls. She thought of Lon’qu and his gentle air and wondered if he could be a candidate.

“Do you understand what is to occur?” asked Say’ri.

Ke’ri nodded, very reluctantly. “A man will have me for the first time, for a sum of money that benefits my okiya.”

“You catch on quickly,” smiled Say’ri. “We must prepare then. We will look over a list of your patrons and decide which ones we want to contact.”

Ke’ri asked nervously, “Do I have a choice in the matter of who I want?”

Say’ri pursed her lips. “Not really, no. Auntie or Mother would be the ones to decide that. Usually men with a lot of money and power.”

“But we only ever see that syndicate, really. Sometimes that doctor, sometimes that baron…”

“Well, those are our likely candidates then,” Say’ri said simply. She wondered why Ke’ri was so cautious of who was to be her first. She didn’t have a choice in the matter, so why did it matter?

“Does it have to be, say, the leader of the syndicate? Can’t it just be anyone involved, so long as they have the money?” Ke’ri was starting to look panicked.

“Ke’ri… That’s not how it works. It wouldn’t make sense if the doctor’s assistant was the winner, or if a grunt in the syndicate were. They aren’t the ones with the power or the money.”

“But,” and Ke’ri was fishing at this point, “what if the assistant was given the money, and put it in the doctor’s name? And the doctor knew of it, but he just wanted the assistant to enjoy himself?”

Say’ri sighed. “Men don’t think like that. As I said, they’re possessive. Once they know your mizuage is for sale, they’ll fight over it, especially those that particularly like you.”

Ke’ri sighed deeply. “I wish no one liked me then.”

“Don’t say that, Ke’ri. It will be fine.” Say’ri clasped a supportive hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “Come, let us go to Auntie about this business, and we’ll prepare the gifts.”

Ke’ri let Say’ri lead her back to the okiya, and she held back tears that hadn’t been cried in so long. Being a geisha meant being a pretty picture, a thing to look at. They weren’t to have feelings, they weren’t to have desires, and they weren’t to have choices. Some may have said she was lucky to have been sold into the trade, but sometimes she hated how political everything was.

She just wanted love and freedom. Was it so much to ask for?

A few nights later, Say’ri took Ke’ri back to that teahouse where she met the handsome stranger, Lon’qu. It seemed they were to entertain the syndicate again.

The two women had entered, the men already proficiently drunk. All the men, except for him. He looked wonderful, in a crisp black suit, back straight, eyes clear. The other men were relaxed, loosening their ties and unbuttoning the tops of their collars. Faces were red, body language open, laughter was heard, but still, Lon’qu was like a statue, the absolute picture of formality.

He and Ke’ri made eye contact. She looked down submissively, not wanting to be forward.

The men greeted the geisha enthusiastically, most of them turning their attention to Say’ri. She indicated that Ke’ri could sit where she wanted, as now she was familiar with this group. Ke’ri went for Lon’qu, even if it were obvious.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the scarred man, but he said nothing. He watched them carefully, while still engaged in conversation with Say’ri and the other men.

Lon’qu was very stiff, but Ke’ri saw it was out of shyness. She blushed, then said, “We meet again, Lon’qu.”

He didn’t look at her at first, staring into his cup of sake. He didn’t want to finish it. “It seems we have.”

A pure simper lightened her face. “This time you hear my true words, not some show I must put on, these theatrics.”

Lon’qu was astonished by her honesty. He knew geisha mostly exaggerated things to the amusement of men, much to his chagrin, so her honesty was much appreciated. The smile on her face was lovely, though he would have liked to have seen the woman under the makeup. He always found a geisha’s makeup was too clownish, too much like that of a kabuki actor. He wanted to see what Ke’ri looked like, not the geisha she was.

But those thoughts were improper. He knew this much about geisha: one never knew their lives. One never knew the women underneath the makeup and hairstyles and kimono. One didn’t even know the girl’s true name typically. They changed it once they were in training. He would never know of Ke’ri’s life or past, and he wasn’t supposed to.

She poured him some tea, noticing he wasn’t touching the sake. “I take it you do not like to drink?”

He let her finish the pouring and sipped the tea. “That is correct. I find it dulls the senses.”

She chuckled. “My dear Lon’qu, isn’t that the point of sake? To cause men to be inebriated, so that their true selves show? Drunk men tell no lies.”

“I think the phrase is ‘dead men tell no lies,’ but you certainly are not wrong,” he responded, taking another drink. He watched her as he tipped his head back, liking the look of her doe brown eyes, her smooth black hair, her full cheeks, small mouth, elegant brow. She was very small compared to Say’ri, like a tiny doll.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” she teased. “Tell me, Lon’qu, if you don’t like to drink, does that mean you always tell lies?”

He blushed, placing the cup down. She poured more. “I find dishonesty unappealing, and in my profession, I can’t afford to lie. Honesty is in my sword, and if it falters, I die.”

“It sounds so hard, being a winning fighter. Is it true you are as good as they say?”

He smirked, feeling a little pride. “I have never lost.”

She fiddled with a handkerchief on the table, exposing her wrist delicately. She was taught this drove men wild, and Lon’qu, as reserved as he was, was still a man, and she heard the breath he took, saw how he tensed up. Even a man of strong will was weak to a woman’s charm.

“I would love to see you fight,” she purred coyly.

His face flushed, and he looked away. “That isn’t something for a woman like you to see. I may be good, but I would rather you not witness such acts of brutality. You geisha like arts, music, dancing. You have no need to see me fight.”

“But Lon’qu, I simply wish to see it. I may be a geisha, but underneath this makeup, I am still a person, and I still have interests.”

He thought it was a peculiar thing to say, given her position. Geisha never talked of private matters. But, then again, they were the only ones having a conversation. Say’ri was telling a story and all the men hooted and hollered throughout. It seemed like quite the tawdry tale.

Ke’ri had an ekubo tucked into her obi. She was supposed to hand it to the leader of the syndicate on the sly, so as not to cause suspicion or an uprising. This wasn’t something one broadcasted for all to see or hear.

But Ke’ri, little rebel she was, was determined to have some modicum of control. So she took it out discretely, ensuring no one had seen her, not even Lon’qu, who had taken an interest in staring at the ceramic of the kettle, and placed it on his thigh.

“This is for you,” she whispered, her eyes darting about. No one was looking at her. All eyes were on Say’ri.

Lon’qu looked at the small box on his thigh, and placed it in his coat pocket. “What is it?”

Lon’qu may have been an experienced fighter and killer, but he knew nothing of the art of being a geisha, and he had yet to learn about what mizuage was.

Ke’ri hurriedly explained in a whispered rush of what the gift was for. Lon’qu’s face turned a brighter and brighter red as she went on with her explanation.

“Geisha… Geisha sell this mizuage?”

“Yes, they do.”

“And… And you want me to be a patron?”

“I like you, Lon’qu. I would rather it be you than that old, cranky doctor near my okiya.” He knew the one. He didn’t blame her.

“Ke’ri, I don’t have that kind of money that the okiya would expect…”

“Oi, you two lovebirds. Say’ri wants Ke’ri to sing!” The scarred man drunkenly hollered. Lon’qu froze, a little flustered, but Ke’ri composed herself and stood in her fluid motion Lon’qu was so fond of.

“Aww, look at our Lon’qu! It seems we have interrupted quite the discussion,” the scarred man jibed. “Tell me, Lon’qu, are you to steal this pretty little bird’s heart? Are you to fly away with her, you lone black bird?”

Lon’qu cleared his throat. “I intend to do nothing of the kind,” he returned, though not convincingly. Geisha had no freedom, and neither did fighters, and he saw this in Ke’ri. He would have loved to take her away, even if he only talked to her just the one time. Just seeing her, he felt something resonate. Something about them was connected. Maybe the red string of fate was tied to both their fingers, leading them to each other. He wasn’t too sure, but he felt right in speaking with her. 

It seemed Ke’ri and Lon’qu were both trapped in their cages, gazing longingly at each other through the bars.

The mistress of the teahouse handed Say’ri the koto, she tuned it, and Ke’ri took her position. This time, she sung a happier song, one that told of love and friendship. The men liked this song, were familiar with it, and sang along. Lon’qu watched, never taking his eyes off her.

Even if it took everything he had, even if he had to die for it, he would be her patron. He would bid on her mizuage.

When the song was finished, Say’ri told the men that it was time for her and Ke’ri to take their leave. The men groaned, begging them to stay longer, but Say’ri diplomatically stated that an apprentice needed rest so as not to overwhelm the senses. They left, bidding their farewells.

It wasn’t too long after when the men decided they’d also leave. Again, they headed to the lower districts, hoping to relieve that tension the two geisha made them feel, and again they invited Lon’qu, who denied the request. He said he wanted to rest up before his fight tomorrow evening.

But before he could go, the scarred man stopped him. “Lon’qu, might I have a word?”

Lon’qu nodded, allowing the other man to speak.

“As you know, our leader is dying, and as he is my uncle, he is leaving the syndicate in my hands…” He began. Lon’qu wondered why he was telling him this. Everyone in the group knew the leader was on his last leg and would croak any minute. Why was this important?

“Being that I am, or will be, the new leader, that means I have new responsibilities, new power if you will.”

Lon’qu asked him what he was implying.

“I couldn’t help but notice how chummy you and the little bird were.” He sneered at Lon’qu. “Her mizuage is coming up, isn’t it?”

Lon’qu’s eyes widened in shock. For once, that calm façade faded. He looked away, his ears red.

“I knew it. I saw her give you the ekubo. So? Are you taking it?”

Lon’qu was confused. These things were supposed to go to men with power, with money, as Ke’ri hastily explained to him. He didn’t understand why she would give this to him, but was flattered nonetheless.

“I can’t. I am not in a position to do so, nor the funds to pay.” He reached in his pocket to take it out, but was stopped.

The scarred man laughed, and Lon’qu felt a chill rush up his spine. “Like I said, my black bird, I have power now…”

Lon’qu didn’t like where this was going.

“I can give you the money to pay for her mizuage. I can give them the highest amount if I need to. I can outbid any man, and you know it. We have more money than the baron, thanks to the trafficking and fighting we do.”

Lon’qu swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. What did his superior want from him?

“What do you want of me?” He asked bluntly. He would not be made a fool.

“Absolutely nothing, my friend. It’s my treat to our best fighter.” Lon’qu didn’t believe that, but said nothing.

“I only have a question, for you, if you will answer.”

Lon’qu stayed apprehensive. “What is it you want to know?”

“Would this mizuage be your own mizuage?”

Lon’qu’s face paled. It was no secret he refused the attention of women, that he never entered a brothel, that he spent his days alone, training with his sword or meditating. He figured it was something that didn’t need to be asked. Some men thought he was a eunuch, but one day at the hot springs proved that wrong.

“I think it improper to tell you.”

“Lon’qu, my friend, we’re both men. We swap our stories of the women we conquer all the time, but we never hear from you! It’s only logical to assume you haven’t done anything.”

Lon’qu resisted the urge to snort. He answered simply, “I keep my private affairs as stated: private.”

The scarred man clucked his tongue. “You’re as stony as a wall, Lon’qu, and just as stubborn as a bull, but you’re a demon in the ring.” He sighed. “I suppose your answer will…suffice.” He looked around them, to see if anyone was eavesdropping. They were alone utterly. “When are they needing the money?”

“That I do not know,” Lon’qu replied. “Ke’ri didn’t get a chance to tell me, as she was asked to sing.”

“No worries. I’ll find out myself. I’ll send the money, and when we get the message that you’re the winner, well, you go get your prize.” With that, he went off in the direction of the brothels.

Lon’qu shivered, noticing a new chill in the air. He decided he’d walk alone, to his living quarters.

He had taken the long way home, the way that would lead him past Ke’ri’s okiya. He saw her standing in the doorway, as if waiting.

It was improper of him, but he approached her.

“I was hoping you’d come by,” she stated shyly. “I wanted to discuss with you…”

“The mizuage? Don’t worry. It’s a done deal.”

Ke’ri blushed. “I know you haven’t the money, but if it is as you say…”

“I’ll have it, and I’ll have you.” He was shocked by his own bold words.

“My sister says I am also to notify the baron and doctor we entertain…” She rushed to him, clutching his chest.

“Lon’qu, whatever it takes, you must win. I would sooner die than let that cranky doctor or wrinkly baron touch me. I may be a geisha, and freedom a distant dream, but I have self-respect. I won’t let this life break me. I will live.”

He stared into her eyes, shocked at her statement. “Ke’ri…” He breathed.

“Yes?”

“I only just met you, tonight we have only just spoken, but I feel a pull towards you I have never felt before.”

“Is it as they said the last time? That you deny the women? That you rebuke them?”

“It is.”

She smiled shyly, dropping her gaze to the ground. She pulled away. “So I should be honored that you are even speaking to me.”

“Ke’ri, I am honored you are speaking to _me_.”

She chuckled. “Such a strange life we live. I have a roof over my head, hot meals prepared. I wear elegant clothing and makeup, and have learned the art of singing, dancing, musical instrumentation, even the art of tea ceremony. But I have no control over these things. I have no freedom.”

“Indeed. I fight almost every night, killing men just like me, just to make money for men who kidnapped me as a child. I too have a roof over my head, hot meals prepared, and if I were to choose it, a new woman in my bed every night. But, as you said, I have no control, no freedom.” He looked away. “My silence is the only freedom I have.”

“My words are my only freedom, though I must speak carefully.” She brushed a tear away. She didn’t want her makeup to run. “I must go now.”

“Ke’ri,” he said as she turned away. She bent her head towards him.

“I promise I’ll win.”

She smiled, a real smile, not the simper she gave to everyone, and entered her okiya. Lon’qu watched her go, his form bathed in moonlight.

Freedom was but a dream, but he would fight for it every day if it meant seeing her smile again.

**Author's Note:**

> Just adding a few notes to those who may be unfamiliar. Mizuage is basically the auction of a young geisha's virginity. It was a common practice, and a way for the okiya (the home of the geisha) to make money. Ekubo is Japanese for dimples, and are called so because the little cakes have small indentations in the middle. Perhaps there is more specific meaning as to why they are presented to those being asked to bid in the mizuage auction. Mizu is Japanese for water, age Japanese for to raise up or place on, so you can interpret that as you please. Geisha are not prostitutes; other than the mizuage, they aren't permitted to have sex, as this can affect their reputation. A pregnant geisha isn't very fun at parties you see, and they actually looked down upon prostitutes. The only time it would be acceptable to have sex is if a geisha somehow got herself a danna, a patron who permanently supports the geisha. Basically, he pays her to be his mistress. Well, not so much as her as the okiya. Most money a geisha rakes in goes to the running of the okiya you see. A geisha with a danna is a very successful geisha, and a danna is usually a man with a lot of money, such as a politician, a businessman, even a doctor. Perhaps a gangster too, if his particular group had a lot of money. Okiya are run by women, usually previously retired geisha. They are referred to as mother or auntie (okaasan or obasan) and apprentices address their superiors as sister (neesan). I learned a lot of this from the book Memoirs of a Geisha, which then led me to do my own research. Again, if anything seems off, let me know!
> 
> Anyway, that's a long author's note, so I'll just sign off! Thank you for reading!


End file.
